Elemental Fury
by SiriuslyPadfoot12
Summary: No one tames the Elementals. No one, at least, until now. Helpless, they send Harry and his friends on a quest to find the Elemental Vessel: the one person who holds all four elements inside himself.(No, not an original character... he already exists.)


Elemental Fury

By Meagan (a.k.a. Padfoot)

Chapter 1

The Realms of Fire

            All was silent inside the boy's dormitory of the Gryffindor tower in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the October night. Even the frog that rested upon one of the night tables was too deep in sleep to snore. No breeze rocked the trees outside. Everyone was sleeping peacefully.

            Everyone, that is, except a boy named Harry Potter.

            He was a normal-looking boy though normal he was not, with unruly raven-colored hair and vivid green eyes. He was of average height and much too skinny, giving him the look of someone who was underfed. His round spectacles rested lightly on the bridge of his nose. Above his right eyebrow was a lightning-bolt shaped scar. It was this scar that made him unusual.

            When he was only one, the notorious Lord Voldemort had come to his house to murder him. For, as he had learned the year previous, there was a prophecy stating that Harry was the only one who could vanquish Voldemort. Voldemort had killed Harry's father and mother and tried to kill Harry himself. To Voldemort's horror, the spell backfired, hitting him instead and leaving him lesser than a ghost. Defeated for the time being, he fled.

            Harry was the sole survivor of that dreadful night. He was praised, called the "Boy Who Lived", and made famous. Now Lord Voldemort was back, and seeking to kill Harry once and for all.

            Harry mulled over this, watching the dying embers in the hearth. Though it was nearing midnight, he found he wasn't the least bit tired. He felt anxious, as though something was going to happen.

            The fading flames cackled and hissed, fighting the cold autumn air. The moon shone brightly through the gap in the curtains, illuminating a strip of the stone floor. It partly shone on the fire.

            With an unusually loud snap and hiss, the fire roared back to life. Harry, completely startled, grabbed his wand from the nightstand and accidentally rolled off the bed. He landed with a loud thud and cursed softly to himself. He was about to scramble to his feet, but something in the fire made him stop and stare.

            The fire had split neatly down the middle. From its heart, a form was emerging. Its edges were hazy, but it was rapidly taking shape. In a matter of minutes, a man emerged from the fireplace. The moonlight fell on his face, giving him an eerie, ghostly look.

            He had hair the same color as the flame he had left, with a clean-shaven goatee to match. His brown eyes sparkled. His pale skin was made almost dead white from the moonlight. He was smiling, revealing many straight white teeth. He was clad in silken scarlet robes that fluttered though there was no wind and his feet were garbed in golden sandals.

            He looked briskly around, saw Harry, and grinned more broadly. "Aaah, there you are, Harry Potter!" the man said in a rich deep voice, rubbing his hands together.

            "H-how—who—what—" Harry stuttered, grasping his wand in his bloodless fist, "Who are you?"

            "Oh! Goodness, you must forgive me!" the man said, bowing formally, "I am called Fyre."

            "Er, hi." Harry said, unable to look away.

            "Yes, yes. Now, you must come quickly. There is only so much time."

            "Why should I go with you? I have no idea who you are! You could be a Death Eater!"

            "Me?" Fyre asked with a laugh. "If I were a Death Eater, I would have just cursed you. There is _no_ time to explain, Harry. You _must_ come, and quickly. You have to trust me. For the sake of fire, I _swear_ to you that you will not be harmed!"

            Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Where are we going, then?"

            Fyre's hair fell into his eyes. "You would not believe me. _Trust_ me, Harry! I beg you! For the sake of my honor, _trust me_!" He fell to his knees. He looked up at Harry with large, pleading eyes.

            Harry stared. No one but Wormtail had ever groveled at his feet before. He could see the man was near tears. Though his better judgment screamed at him not to, he said bluntly, "Fine. But I'm taking my wand. If anything tries to hurt me, including you, I'll curse it out of existence."

            Fyre sighed in relief. He got to his feet in one swift, fluid motion. "Come quickly, we do not have all night."

            He strode over to the fireplace to the abnormally large fire. He put his hands together, palms touching, and slowly drew them apart. The fire split along its middle. When it had opened wide enough for him to fit through, he beckoned to Harry. "You must enter first."  
            Harry stared at the fiery portal. He was supposed to go through _that_?

            "Erm, won't that burn me?"

            Fyre snorted and waved his hand in dismissal. "No, no, no. It'll be safe. Go on!"

            Harry stood hesitantly at the edge of the portal. The fire seemed as warm as it ever was. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and leapt into the dark doorway.

            Almost immediately, his eyes snapped open again. His eyes widened and reflected his terror, for he was too frightened to scream. He was spinning down a wild abyss of roaring fire. Though it swept around him and licked his skin, it didn't burn. Once he realized this, his panic ebbed away slightly.

            After what seemed like eons, the fiery oblivion spat him out solid ground. He landed on all fours. His knees began to throb from the sudden, violent impact. He stared down at the shiny black surface he had landed on. It seemed to be some type of rock.

            There was a loud roaring sound that made him jump and spin around. With an explosion of red-hot flames, Fyre appeared. He didn't fall as Harry had but landed lightly on his feet.

            "Ahhh, here we are." Fyre said, fixing his mussed hair and straightening his robes. He smiled over the place before him. "Home sweet home."

            Harry scrambled to his feet. When he saw where he was, he nearly fell down again.

            Before him stretched a pathway of the shiny black stone. It led down to a castle made of the same material, with many towers and parapets. On the sides of the path there seemed to be an ocean of fire. Animals made from the same substance ran around on this strange ocean, or climbed up fire-trees. The sky was a smoky-color gray with a blood-red sun.

            "Home?" he managed to croak.

            "Yes. This—" Fyre beamed, gesturing to the strange world of fire, "is the Realm of Fire."

            "Realm of Fire?" Harry repeated.

            "This is my Element. Let us go to my house, where I will explain." Fyre said, starting off in the direction of the castle.

            Harry followed, nearly treading on Fyre's heels he was so close. This new world felt strangely familiar, yet he knew not to let his guard down.

            Once they reached the castle, the drawbridge of stone clanged to the ground and allowed Harry and Fyre to enter. Fyre strolled in and led Harry to a room filled with furniture made of fire. The interior of the castle was made of the same substance as the outside.

            Fyre sat down on a chair and motioned for Harry to sit on the one across from him. Harry uneasily eyed the table Fyre was leaning on. He looked down at the chair he was supposed to sit in and said, "Uh… won't it burn me?"

            Fyre snorted. "Of course not. Sit, sit, and let me explain."

            Harry put his hand on the back of the chair, expecting it to be scaldingly hot, and found to his surprise it was only pleasantly warm. He sat down and was equally surprised to find it solid.

            "Would you like a drink?" asked Fyre, rubbing the back of his neck.

            "Okay," Harry said.

            Fyre snapped his fingers. At once, a flame taller than Harry and shaped like a man swept into the room carrying a glass tray. It placed a glass of liquid in front Fyre and another in front of Harry.

            "Erm—thanks," Harry said, unsure whether it could hear him or not.

            It bowed low, the place where its face should have been inches from the ground. It then turned and left the room.

            Harry studied the drink it had brought him. The glass seemed to be filled with liquid blue flame. The top of it was covered in small dancing, bluish orange flames. He cautiously poked the glass it was in to make sure it wouldn't burn him.

            "Um… do you have any Butterbeer?"

            "No," Fyre said, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

            "Water?"

            When Harry requested this, Fyre roared with laughter. "This is the Realm of Fire, lad! Though the ruler of the Realms of Water is my own twin, we don't agree on many things. Water, if you may recall, is fire's opposite."

            Harry, face red with embarrassment, asked, "Then what _do_ you have?"

            "Well we have Bluebell, which is what I'm having now. There's also Corona and Sun Core. That's it, basically."

            "Are they all… fire?"

            "Yes."

            "Will it hurt me to drink?"

            "Naw, you have some Fire in your veins, Harry. That is the reason most of what exists here does not harm you."

            Amazed at this new piece of information about his heritage, Harry took a swig of Bluebell to cover it up. It felt very much like Butterbeer as it went down, and tasted of blueberry and raspberry.

            "Hey, this is good!" he said, looking at his glass in surprise. It was all ready half empty.

            Fyre laughed and clapped his hands. The flame-person reentered with another round of Bluebell.

            When Harry had had his fill of Bluebell, he asked, "So, why am I here?"

            "I have things that will assist you to the destruction of Lord Voldemort," Fyre said, suddenly serious.

            Harry blinked. The abrupt change in spirit had taken him by surprise. Becoming serious himself, he asked, "What kind of things?"

            "The Power of Fire." Fyre replied. He clapped his hands again, and the flame-servant came to his master's side with another glass tray.

            Fyre took the objects off the tray and spread them on the table before him. Harry leaned forward to see them better.

            "This is Sun-Stinger," Fyre said, picking up a glass sword. Its hilt was made of the black stone the castle was built of, with a flame engraved into both sides. Along the interior of the glass blade was a flickering tongue of flame. He slid it into a leather sheath and handed it to Harry.

            Sun-Stinger was so light Harry nearly dropped it in surprise. He gently unsheathed it and looked at it. The flame at the blade's heart flared and glowed brilliantly.

            "This," Fyre said, picking up a necklace, "Will let you contact me when you are in need of help. With this, you can enter the Realms of Fire without my help and leave when need be." He gave it to Harry.

            Harry picked it up by the fragile golden chain. It was warm against his skin, but not uncomfortably hot. A glass orb hung from the golden chain. Like the sword, a flame flickered at its heart.

            Fyre suddenly gasped and looked up. His kind, brown eyes grew round in fear. He grabbed Harry's hands in his own and stared into the boy's eyes. "Harry, my time is nearly up. No, no, I'm not dying," he added hastily when Harry turned dead white. "I mean the time I have to explain to you. You have to find the Vessel, Harry, the Elemental Vessel. He is the key to destroying Voldemort. You _must_ find him!"

            Harry was terribly confused. "The Elemental Vessel?"

            "He is the only one who can bear the four Elements inside himself. He can use all of our powers. He will aid you in Voldemort's destruction, but he cannot do this himself. You are the only one who can."

            Fyre's eyes widened more and he paled several shades. He gripped the edge of the table in bloodless fists. He stared off into space for a moment, his throat constricting in obvious pain.

            Harry stood quickly, causing the chair to topple over. "Fyre!" he yelled, diving to help the man of whom he had become fond.

            "Run!" cried Fyre, standing with amazing speed. "_Run_! Go home! _Hurry_!"

            Harry grabbed Sun-Stinger and threw the necklace around his neck. He fumbled with the belt of his sheath with his speeding fingers. He pulled Sun-Stinger free, turned, and sprinted from the room.

            He had no idea how to use the necklace to transport himself home. He clutched the glass orb in his fingers and concentrated with all his might.

            His vision blurred and he skidded to a halt. The air in front of him contracted. With a popping noise, the fiery portal back to the boy's dormitory appeared.

            He dived headfirst into the portal with a triumphant yell. The flight through the fiery abyss wasn't as long as it had been the last time. In a matter of seconds, he was tumbling out of the fireplace in the boy's dormitory.

            He scrambled out of the fireplace and, as he did so, caught a look of himself in the mirror. He was covered in soot and ashes. His pajamas were probably ruined. He laughed with relief.

            He quickly stripped off his nightclothes and threw on new ones. He sheathed Sun-Stinger and carefully wrapped it in his invisibility cloak. He made sure to leave the necklace on, just in case.

            He couldn't wait to tell Ron the events of the night. He turned to his best friend's bed and opened his mouth to speak. The words he was going to say died in his throat, for Ron's bed curtains were open.

            And he wasn't there.

            Fyre watched Harry run. He wheezed in pain. It was agony enough that he wished to die, but he couldn't, for then the Realms of Fire and all the fire in the world would cease to exist.

            "Wherever you are," he gasped after enduring a few more moments of pain, eyes filling with fire tears, "Show yourself."

            A soft, high-pitched laugh answered him. From the shadows stepped a man with crimson, snake like eyes and slits for nostrils. He had not a hair on his head and his skin was sheet white. He was swathed in a black traveling cloak with its hood pulled back. His hands, like large spiders, clutched a wand and a bag. He grinned, his lips stretched bloodless over particularly sharp eyeteeth.

            "Why, hello, Fyre," sneered Lord Voldemort.

            "Hello, Thomas Marvolo Riddle." Fyre managed to gasp.

            Voldemort raised his wand shot a jet of water at Fyre. Fyre dodged and landed, sprawled, on the ground. A fresh bout of pain decked him with the fall. He moaned.

            "That is no longer my name. You will refer to me as 'My Lord', as you should remember." Voldemort said coldly.

            Glaring with a look that could literally kill, Fyre murmured, "Yes, my Lord."

            However, Voldemort was no fool. He had armed himself for such an attack. The fire in Fyre's glare had no effect whatsoever. He smiled.

            Voldemort threw the bag on the table. He pulled out a glass vial with powder in it. It looked as if it had been soaked in blood. As he removed the topper, he said casually, "I hope you did not have a visitor whilst I was away. I told you that you could have no guests without my permission."

            Fyre squared his jaw and flicked a fire-tear away. "I did," he said defiantly, "and he will be the one to end my enslavement to you."

            Voldemort placed the topper on the table. "Come, Fyre." He said.

            Fyre didn't move. A fresh wave of pain made him fall to his knees, sobbing quietly.

            Voldemort didn't possess much patience if, indeed, he had any. "I _said_, 'Come Fyre.'"

            Against his will, Fyre was forced to his feet. He struggled against his feet, which made him trudge over to his master. This cause each step to be stiff and erratic. When he arrived at Voldemort's side, he snarled.

            "It _is_ fortunate I brought more of this dried potion with me," Voldemort said carelessly, inspecting the vial, "It seems to be wearing off. Now, eat this, my little slave."

            Voldemort handed the vial to Fyre. Beads of sweat dotted Fyre's upper lip as he tried to stop the vial from coming to his lips. He was unable to stop it, though, for the pain of resisting Voldemort was too great. He unwillingly tilted his head back and emptied the contents of the vial into his mouth.

            The scream of pain Fyre had resisted for so long broke through his careful guard and exploded from his lips. The vial fell from his hand. He collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching and his whole body rocking with spasms. Pain beyond pain coursed through his very veins.

            Voldemort laughed mercilessly. He knelt down next to the screaming man. "Now, who was your visitor? Who is it that is going to be your savior from this _dreadful_ situation?"

            Fyre's eyes rolled into his head as he tried to resist. He back arched and he thrashed wildly. He choked, his air cut off from his lungs as his throat closed upon itself.

            "_HARRY POTTER_!" he screamed.

            Voldemort was suddenly furious. He leapt to his feet. He shouted a word and water shot out his wand. It hit Fyre's arm and hand.

            Fyre let loose a bloodcurdling scream. Steam curled off his hands, which hissed like fire and curled into ashes, leaving ashy stumps on his forearms.

            "May that make you think," Voldemort snapped. He turned, cloak snapping, and left to his own world, leaving Fyre to sob in misery.

**A/N: Bahahaha! Something new from Padfoot! Apologies to my Aniwizard fans. ::skulks off:: I'll go update that now…**

**Expect "Chapter 2: The Realms of Water" next!**

**Much loveness,**

**Padfoot**


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